Some close friends of ours while growing up, the Hattendorfs, live on a farm. It was one of my favorite places to play when I was a child; climbing around in the hayloft, hunting for eggs, and running through the cornfield. Every fall we used to come out to help them harvest the pumpkins that they sell for Luke and Matt's college fund. I remember so many crisp, cloudy afternoons, riding the tractor-pulled flatbed out into the pumpkin patch, nose runny from the cold, mittened hands heaving the the pumpkins onto the trailer. I haven't been out there for years, and it felt good to be back in the golden hour sun, and to see Indy marvel at the running chickens and the field full of orange. 

Hand holding cousins.

This tractor is from 1958. . .

There were many chickens to chase. . .

. . . and treasures to be found. We left with a couple of fresh eggs and an appropriately sized pumpkin for each of us, and plenty of good farmy feelings to last us a little while.

We've been on the lookout for a little chair or Indy for a while now. It's funny how children intuitively identify miniature versions of things as being for them, and in a house full of things that she's regularly being discouraged from overturning and upsetting, I think it is important that she have things all her own that she can drag around and turn upside down and climb all over.

The chair was sturdy, but needed some cute-ifying. . .

So a three dollar paint sampler from the hardware store and a nap's worth of time spent at the sewing machine later. . .

The only real challenge was getting her to stay off of it until it was dry.